<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Where's Dessert? by awesomerextyphoon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619780">Where's Dessert?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomerextyphoon/pseuds/awesomerextyphoon'>awesomerextyphoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Black Character(s), Black Reader, Desk Sex, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:46:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomerextyphoon/pseuds/awesomerextyphoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re the one nearly every woman (and some men) envy; you’re Sam Wilson’s, Redwing Inc’s CEO, personal assistant. You brought him lunch, but you forgot to get dessert.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sam Wilson (Marvel) &amp; Reader, Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where's Dessert?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Cutting close, aren’t ya?” the guard said as you sped past the ID check-in.</p>
<p>“I’m not late yet, Greg!” you shot back as you entered the elevator.</p>
<p>You scored the big fish of your career; you were Sam Wilson’s, CEO of Redwing Inc, personal assistant. Most of the women and some men would shoot you seething glowers whenever Sam called you into his office. You’ve only got the job for a few months, but you’ve learned so much about communications and how to sell a story.</p>
<p>It didn’t hurt that your boss was fucking sexy to the point of it being unfair. His easy smiles, warm brown eyes with flecks of ember, and drool-worthy physique always wrapped in a tasteful suit.</p>
<p>He always made your knees weak (and your panties soaking wet).</p>
<p>That is, if he didn’t drive your ass up the wall most of the time with his demands.</p>
<p>Like his lunch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>––––––</p>
<p>After straightening your blouse and skirt, fixing your hair in the slightly reflective glass, you walked into Sam’s office with as much poise as you can muster.</p>
<p>“Here’s your pulled pork barbecue sandwich, coleslaw, fries, creamy mac and cheese, and sweet ice tea, boss.”</p>
<p>Sam was only in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up (insert inward moan) and seemed to be writing a letter (feels the need for a personal touch) when he looked up with an annoyed expression.</p>
<p>“Where’s dessert?”</p>
<p>You felt a grand piano crush your glimmer of triumph, “Wha...What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Your boss rose from his desk and strolled over, towering over your quivering form with his Adonis frame.</p>
<p>“My order. It usually comes with dessert.” Sam continued leaning in so that you could feel his spearmint scented breath coming off his deliciously full lips.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, sir I didn’t mean to-”</p>
<p>“No matter,” Sam interjected while gracefully returning to his desk (honestly could’ve been a dancer in another life), “Come here.”</p>
<p>You shot him a quizzical look, “Come again?”</p>
<p>Your boss’ easygoing demeanor snapped into a condescending one, “Did I stutter? I told you to come to my desk.”</p>
<p>So, with the ever so present butterflies residing in your stomach, you made your way to Sam’s desk.</p>
<p>“Now then,” He smirked,”I think I’ll have my dessert early. Come over, on the desk facing me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>––––––</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam inwardly smirked at his assistant’s nervous gait.</p>
<p>“That’s right honey, on the desk.” Sam instructed as you put your seductive form on his desk. Ever since you started this job, you’ve been taunting him with your tight pencil skirts, modest blouses, and your curls framing your gorgeous face and dazzling smile.</p>
<p>Lord knows how many times he’s had to hide the tent in his pants.</p>
<p>“Like this?” You seemed to be having a little too much fun in your situation.</p>
<p>Sam reached for your skirt once readied your legs as your eyes darkened and you guided him between your thighs. Sam pulled you in for a kiss when he found that you decided to forego underwear.</p>
<p>“I got tired of them being soaked through by the time I got back from work.”</p>
<p>“Well then, yay for me.” Sam purred into your neck. His deep, honeyed voice sending delicious shivers down your spine.</p>
<p>Sam started slow. He kissed your jaw and neck while tracing small, lazy circles around your clit causing you to break out in throaty moans.</p>
<p>“Unbutton your blouse, honey.” Sam growled as he pushed another finger into your folds.</p>
<p>You shed your blouse to reveal a Wine Red silk bra,”Like what you see?” you teased.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Sam half approved, half moaned as he marveled at your delicate shoulders and generous expanse of your chest. He wasted no time his way down your body marking all of your sweet spots relishing in the delightful moans escaping your mouth. Sam kissed the top of your chest while you made short work of his dress shirt.</p>
<p>“Impressed?” Sam smirked.</p>
<p>You could only nod in response. And who could blame you? Sam was Baroque statue brought to life with his smooth and detailed plains of muscle, broad shoulders and back, thick biceps, and magnificent pecs and abs.</p>
<p>You stretched out your hand to caress Sam’s physique only for him to gently swat it away.</p>
<p>“Next time, honey. Today’s all about you.”</p>
<p>He then softly pushed you as to have your back on his desk. Sam grinned as he used one hand to grab your blessed backside and another to steady himself.</p>
<p>“You ready, honey?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Yes, what?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>And with that, Sam dove in.</p>
<p>He worked your folds and clit with remarkable precision alternating between his tongue and fingers. Each ministration sent you higher and higher shooting bolts of electric ecstasy throughout your body.</p>
<p>You wanted to hold onto Sam, but he would stop and tut his disappointment with each attempt.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” he would chide.</p>
<p>Sam kept you teetering over the precipice of your release for what felt like a lifetime (actually was nine minutes) before he finally granted you mercy.</p>
<p>“Come for me, my sweet.”</p>
<p>You came with a shout of Sam’s name, your juices gushing out for him to devour.</p>
<p>Once your breathing steadied and your mind came back from your orgasmic bliss, Sam pulled you into his arms allowing you to inhale his cloves, aftershave, and a hint of peaches.</p>
<p>“You do know this means we’re together, right?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>“Call me Sam when we’re alone. Alright baby?”</p>
<p>“Yes Sam,” you giggled into his chest, “What about your lunch?”</p>
<p>Sam glanced over to the spot on the floor where you dropped his order, “It’s fine. I’ll give Greg a call and he can make the order.”</p>
<p>“What do you want to do now?”</p>
<p>Sam grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m guessing you’ve haven’t had your lunch yet, have you?”</p>
<p>“Not really, I wante-,” you stopped when you felt a tent forming in his pants.</p>
<p>“I think I’ll have some now.” you smiled as you got on your knees and unbuckled his pants.</p>
<p>Sam had an hour before his meeting with Stark Industries, so he wanted to make it count.</p>
<p>He was super thankful for making his office soundproof on demand.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>